


The Strength of The Wolf

by therogueheart



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Witcher (TV), The Witcher (TV) RPF
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Bottled Appetites, Boys Kissing, Cum Eating, Cum Play, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, First Time Together, Flirting, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Friendship study, Frottage, Grinding, Hair Pulling, Height difference, Henry Cavill is Hung Like a Horse, Henry Cavill suffers from CockBig-19, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Picking Up, Relationship Development, Relationship Study, Rough Kissing, Rough handling, Roughness, Scene Dissection, Season 1/Episode 5 - Bottled Appetites, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Texting, real person fiction - Freeform, the djinn episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueheart/pseuds/therogueheart
Summary: "Then hewhats" Joey would like to say it was said calmly, with a vaguely surprised and mildly interested air. But it isn't. Its all butsqueaked. Yelped, out of his mouth even as Mike begins the next sentence, utterly unphased by the words he'd just spoken.Henry's gaze lifts from under an unfair set of lashes, tauntingly sultry in the way his dark eyes practically glitter with amusement, coy and challenging. The smirk that tilted his mouth was sinful, and Joey didn't know if he wanted to kiss it off the man or slap it off him."What, you don't think I could?"
Relationships: Joey Batey/Henry Cavill
Comments: 25
Kudos: 274





	The Strength of The Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> There are _twelve_ works in this pairing and I am, for one, _hungry._  
>  As per, this is entirely fictional and completely the lovechild of 51 hours worth of sleep deprivation, exactly 12 Unicorn Horn candies and the shocking revelation that I had yet to follow either of these beauties on Instagram. My works are in no way a reflection of, nor a depiction of real life events or people.  
> Sadly. 
> 
> This is, essentially, the behind-the-scenes of Jaskier getting his throat bulged in the single least sexiest way.  
>  _Drafted 30|03|2020_

"Then he _what_?" Joey would like to say it was said calmly, with a vaguely surprised and mildly interested air. But it isn't. Its all but _squeaked. Yelped_ , out of his mouth even as Mike begins the next sentence, utterly unphased by the words he'd just spoken. There's no way to recover from it, so Joey simply owns it, slumped over the desk with his mouth open and the script held before him, gaze sliding from Mike's vaguely puzzled expression to Henry, sat opposite him on this tiny little table. A scene with just Joey and Henry didn't need to be rehearsed with the entire cast and production crew. Its an informal reading, after all. 

Henry's gaze lifts from under an unfair set of lashes, tauntingly sultry in the way his dark eyes practically glitter with amusement, coy and challenging. The smirk that tilted his mouth was sinful, and Joey didn't know if he wanted to kiss it off the man or slap it off him. 

"What, you don't think I could?" Henry drawled, easy, lazy. There's nothing humble about the way he looks at Joey, purrs those words like he knows he looks like raw sex in the moment. The worst of it is - Joey _knows_ he _could_. That's not even the issue here. Well, not quite, but regardless. The issue is that Henry is going to spend an undoubted series of days tossing him around like a rag-doll, manhandling him each way he pleases. That Joey is going to be limp and wheezing over his shoulder, with _his ass level to Henry Cavill's face._

And, that's it. The greatest sentence of his entire acting career. The paragraph and scenario that a countless _million_ people would easily kill their most annoying sibling for. 

"And if I don't?" Joey challenged, brow lifting. Its a false bite in response to being prodded, they both know the truth. Henry could lift Joey above his head and fling him like a throwing disk for all the good it did. Henry's smirk only gets wickeder, filthier, even though in Henry's mind its nothing more than friendly banter, a battle of wit and words, the swords of friendship. Joey has seen more than enough evidence of what Henry can do. Has seen more bulging, rippling muscles in the filming of one series than he ever has in his _life_. And that's just from _one_ man. 

"Would you like conclusive evidence?" Henry's brow lifted to mirror Joey's, relaxing out of the near _predatory_ state to blind him with a sunny, easy smile, still lazy in his effortless charisma. It bled Joey's throat of any wetness, and he had to reach for his water, feigning a roll of his eyes. 

"You'll have plenty of time to show off when we get to filming" he dismissed, easy breezy. There's nothing but soft amusement in Henry now, that painfully gentle smile, those puppy-ish eyes, fixed on him for a moment longer before sliding across to Mike in silent permission to continue. Mike, who's had enough first-hand experience in their presence to know that the best thing to do is just sit back and let them work it out, like children, energetic and egging each other on. 

"Right, as I was saying. Jaskier's pain is increasing by the minute, his breathing is being stolen, like having a severe allergic reaction. Its robbing him of his energy, his coherence. Walking isn't an option, so to bring him to Yennefer, to the mage, Geralt throws him over his shoulder and carries him inside. I'm thinking the actual throwing won't be on camera, but the walking will. And-" 

Its rude of him, but Joey can't help tuning the rest of it out. He's more or less staring at the words anyway, mind ticking over in begrudging acceptance of what's about to happen. So far, bar being tied up together at the mercy of a few Elves, Geralt and Jaskier haven't been all that _close_. Haven't been all that _touchy_. Joey laments it, not only selfishly, but for Jaskier too. The bard is _lively_. _Vibrant_. He _loves_ and he _yearns_ and he _expresses_. His body is an outlet for his love, his energy, his affections. Always moving, always touching, each emotion clear as day in his walk and his smile and his words. For all that Geralt is supposed to mean to him, the writers have done a pretty good job so far at limiting its expression. 

_Wouldn't want to queer-bait the audience, now, would we?_

At his elbow, his abandoned phone blooms to life, earning itself a flicker of his gaze, and then a second one, when _The Big Bad Wolf_ reads as the contact number. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: Pay attention. [10:21]**

He risked a glance upwards, caught red-handed, and Henry's gaze darted briefly across the table to him, casting him a warm, knowing smile before turning back to where Mike was still talking, still mapping out the perfect scene. Admonished and reminded of his manners, Joey shifted in his seat tuned back into the reading, pushing aside all personal thoughts. Well. _Most_ personal thoughts, at the least. Henry's sinful gaze was not something he could easily banish from his mind. It was, frankly, a miracle that the reading went by relatively smoothly, with most of the discussion being the general script and expectations. Joey's heart went out for Jaskier - Bar getting his chest kicked in by an Elf, this was more or less the most serious wound he'd sustained thus-far in the series. 

The episode generally encompassed horrific pain for Jaskier, not-at-all subtle homoerotic subtext, and the long awaited establishment of the main heteronormatve relationship. Joey's heart ached for Jaskier. All the bard ever seemed to get was off-screen failed romances and, according to Mike, a vengeous attack from Yennefer in the later portion of the script. By the time Mike called the end of the reading, Joey could do nothing but heave a weary sigh, pushing himself to his feet. 

"We'll be doing a scene-set tomorrow" Mike warned them, waggling the script on his way out. Joey shook his head with a soft hum, reaching to scoop his phone from the table. He didn't mean to dither, but a text from a friend had him pausing, tapping, and it wasn't until he actually succeeded in pocketing his phone that he realised Henry was still here too, watching him with gentle patience. 

"What?" Joey asked, raising a brow. "The meeting is over, perfectly fine for me to be on my phone". And anyway, he was a grown man. Henry wasn't his...Parent. A dictator on when and where and why. But Henry just shrugged at him, careless and calm, that damned smile still curving his lips. 

"You seemed quite startled by the contents of the script" Henry voiced in a conversational tone, making his way around the table in a manner that meant Joey had to turn slightly to face him head-on, unbothered by the observation. Henry himself was no virgin to responding to the script - Not least the more... _Intimate_ moments. Joey didn't even want to think of how many people Henry had been naked against, how many bottles of baby oil had gone into (or rather, onto) him. He wasn't all that much shorter than Henry, which was a complete lie but one he would argue with his last breath, and he tipped his head back to look up at him. 

"And," Henry continued, head tilting slightly. "I rather feel I have a point to prove". And maybe it was the smile, or the glitter in his eyes, but Joey had a vague notion of what was about to happen and opened his mouth to protest, seconds too late to matter. Henry was already stooping, head thoroughly level with Joey's hip and pelvis as he wrapped strong, defined arms around Joey's thighs, squeezing as he lifted Joey up with strength that was both breathtaking and foundedly unsurprising. 

"Hen-ry! Hey!" Joey yelped, hands instinctively falling to Henry's shoulders, gripping as Henry straightened, holding him aloft as easy as if he were a newborn baby. "Henry!" He barked, though it was riddled with delight and joy, leaning back slightly so he could look down, to see where Henry was gazing up at him with such a bright, joyful smile, broad and all full of teeth. And no man should look like that, not with his face right next to his colleague's cock. "Alright, you great brute. You've proved your point!" He laughed, relaxing in Henry's hold, wrapping his arms as much as he was able, to cradle Henry's head and shoulders. 

"Just making sure. My big man pride and ego demand it" Henry voiced, half-chuckled as he carefully, carefully let Joey slide through his grip. It was almost tender, the way that he cradled him when they were stood chest to chest, arms wrapped around his waist in a loose embrace before he stepped away and to the side, arm sliding away but simultaneously turning Joey to walk with him. "I can already imagine the things that will come of this episode" Henry noted jovially as they walked, and Joey could only offer a lopsided grin in response. Oh, yes. 

A magical orgy, Geralt throwing Jaskier around like a rag-doll, the great, destined meeting and the Djinn. It was surely going to be one of the more... _Utilised_ episodes. But Joey knew that Henry meant the whole orgy/Yennefer thing, so he gave a low hum. "Mm, I'm sure Geralt and his destined love finally meeting will be a crowd-pleaser" he noted, shifting to nudge Henry gently in the bicep, because they weren't quite completely at shoulder level. 

Henry cast him a soft, almost bemused smile, with something rather unreadable veiled in his eyes. Before Joey could ask, one of the women from hair and makeup came scurrying over and Henry was whisked away with an apologetic expression for yet another fitting, test or re-fit. Joey didn't quite envy him of it. Especially not the wig, though it remarkably suited Henry in a way Joey felt was entirely unique to the man. Sort of like the early-day Thor hair. It just wouldn't look right on someone like Tony Stark. 

Joey rather supposed that was the end of it until tomorrow, retreating to his trailer with the intent of stepping on a weighing scale and familiarising himself with his lines. 

What? So he was a little self-conscious of the fact that the following few days were going to be spent with Henry hauling him around. So what? He was allowed one or two such crises throughout his life. He didn't much care about his weight the rest of the time, so he reasoned it wasn't unhealthy to be... _Curious_ about it this once. He let himself into the trailer with a sigh, tossing the script onto the small kitchenette table before he reached for the stove-top kettle. Tea couldn't hurt, right? When the baggie was stewing in the water, he sank down onto the small couch and was reaching for the script when his phone vibrated. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: I think the fans will appreciate it. The interaction between us this episode. I do. Appreciate it, I mean. [13:48]**

Joey squinted at his phone, trying to decipher the strange, almost warming sensation that grew within his chest. Henry hadn't exactly been covert about enjoying the Geralt-Jaskier friendship in the past, but it was sort of 'out of the blue' to text him with no initial prompting about it. Was he concerned that Joey was uncomfortable with it? The notion was rather sweet. He idly moved the teabag from his mug as he considered how best to respond. Would it be too bold to mention the fanart and the fanfiction likely to come from this? Would it be too depreciating to note that it would likely be over-ridden by Geralt and Yennefer? 

He must've pondered it too long. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: And I promise to be gentle with you. I'll only drop you a few times. [13:59]**

It was cruel. It was truly unfair. It was taunting. _I promise to be gentle with you._ Who'd ever given him the right to say such a thing? This was as bad as the bath-tub scene, and Joey had only survived that by a bare fraction, with the life-support of late night, guilty attention to his cock. And...Other places. He'd actually had to fake sick once they'd finally progressed from it, hiding out in his trailer for a night or two of existential crisis. He still wasn't quite over the intimacy of it, the proximity of Henry's (mostly) naked body. Would never be over it, frankly. Leaning over the tub, gazing into those ensnaring eyes, the softest _and yet, here we are._

Sure, this scene could be perceived as less intimate. But Joey knew that wasn't quite true - Knew that Henry would integrate his own intimacy into the scenario with subtle touches, looks, the tone of his voice. Much as he had in the actual Djinn scene, gripping onto Joey like a lifeline, fingers stroking down his arm like Joey/Jaskier wasn't choking on his own blood. 

He shook himself from his stupor and swiped his thumbs across the screen. 

**Me: I was dropped as a baby, I doubt you'd do much more damage. [14:04]**

It was a clear escape, but Joey couldn't think of anything else to say that wasn't completely and utterly besotted. It was a trait he and Jaskier shared all too well - Falling in love. It was in soft blankets and summer days. In beautiful women and breathtaking men. In music notes and the smell of cut grass. Perhaps that's why he'd landed the role so solidly. He was, more or less, the modern version of Jaskier. 

And he was steadily growing to love his modern-day Geralt. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: At least its clear it wasn't on your face. [14:09]**

Joey...Didn't quite have a response to that. Not to Henry more or less blatantly calling him handsome. Sure, Henry had complimented his appearance in the past, fleeting comments about how he fluttered his lashes or about the fit of his costume, but nothing quite as pointed (indirect though it may seem) as this. Joey blew out a breath that turned into a chuckle. Who wouldn't want to be complimented by a man like that? In a similar anecdote as before, Joey knew half the world would just about die for such a thing. 

Joey abandoned any pretence of responding for picking up the script again, eyes scouring the lines. 

_He's a friend._

Joey heaved a sigh and shook his head, staring at the script. This was going to rival the bathtub scene, for sure. And not just on the basis of the development and intimacy - But Joey already knew these two were going to go down in fanart and fanfiction history. Archive of Our Own was going to be nothing but sensual bath smut and heartfelt confessions. And, he had no doubt, close-to-death kinkiness. He was practically getting throat bulged in this scene, and he knew how their minds worked. How _his_ mind worked, because he was no stranger to lurking on the site himself. 

Curiosity, of course. And a healthy appreciation of some of the character relationships he's been witness too. 

Though, he suspects this will be the first time he's ever actually part of a prominent one. And, how thrilling was that? That his work, his performances, were going to (hopefully) inspire such release, such passion and creativity? To bring people together? It lit a fire in his heart that would burn until it suffocated with his last breath. He read the script late into the evening, practising lines until he more or less had them without even looking at the papers, and then the ache of hunger called him to his kitchenette. 

Most of Joey's food came from the catering department, but he kept a small stock in his trailer for the days he wasn't needed, or for when he'd gotten peckish. It was mostly vegetables and fruit or dry snacks like crackers and instant ramen. He felt guilty about it; but he didn't have anywhere _near_ as close to the strict eating habits of Henry. So far, they'd only implored that he stay much the same as he was now. Jaskier wasn't seen in anything less than a shirt, anyhow. Joey could afford to drink a soda and crunch a cracker now and then. Poor Henry...

He was reaching for an apple and a pack of wheat bites when there was a three-beat knock on his trailer door, and Joey dutifully turned, striding across the space to tear open the door, looking down at the familiar face there with surprised puzzlement. 

"I think I said your name three times too many" Joey murmured. Henry cast him that unbearably soft, mildly confused puppy look again and Joey shook his head, stepping aside with a 'come in' motion. It wasn't at all uncommon for the two of them to hang out together, much less in their trailers. Henry's was far more luxurious than Joey's own, but that was rather to be expected. Besides; a bigger man frankly needed more room. Henry followed him inside with a soft sound, waiting patiently near the couch for Joey's permission for him to sit. It was peculiar, but Joey had long since accepted the various expressions of politeness that Henry displayed. 

"How was makeup? Have they given you a dashing pout yet? Maybe some beauty spots or a pimple on your arse?" Joey asked as he flipped on the stove for a second mug, this one nothing but lavender and nettle herbal tea. The most that Henry was allowed, other than water or fruit flavoured water. It was one of the rare scenes that Henry wasn't being commanded to dehydrate for. When he turned Henry was sprawled out in the corner of the couch, relaxed and at ease. Joey liked that look more than all the others. Calm, content, safe. 

"Mm? Oh, no. Just modelling some concepts for future outfits. More black shirts, more black pants" Henry shrugged, accepting the tea with a graceful smile and a murmur of thanks. Joey settled next to him, barely a hand away. They'd become fast friends over the course of filming and their natural affinity for intimacy in even platonic relationships meant more often than not they could be found sandwiched together on a single seat. 

"More black? My, they're branching out" Joey grinned wryly, though he couldn't deny it - Black looked good on Henry. Though Joey felt you'd be rather hard pressed to find anything that didn't. Henry gave an amused chuff over the rim of his mug, sipping the tea carefully before he lowered it and looked across at Joey. Almost always smiling, he thought. You'd need effort to find Henry wearing a frown. 

"So," Henry began, and Joey cast him an expectant gaze. "What do you think of it? The episode". 

Ah. 

"I think...It means a lot of time in the makeup and effects trailer" Joey began carefully, keeping his tone chipper. "I highly doubt a massive boil on my neck will make for the sexiest look Jaskier will ever wear, but. Hey! He finally gets to ride Roach" he noted, nodding to the script. Of course, Joey wouldn't actually be riding the horse. His skills atop a beast weren't honed enough to sit all floppy and sad on the very end of its arse, without even a saddle to hold him in place. Though he _had_ sat atop two of the six current Roaches, guided along on a plodded walk by Henry, who by now could probably ride a horse with one hand and no legs. 

_An Englishman who can't ride_ , Henry had teased, eyes bright and laugh brighter as he dodged the well-aimed kick to the shins. 

"For the first and only time, I'm sure" Henry agreed, in a way that made Joey feel the ridiculous urge to crawl across his lap and kiss him. "I'm glad, you know. That Geralt saves him. When I read the concept for the script, I thought they were culling him" Henry noted, with the barest hint of a frown. Being a 'main' character meant little to nothing in Hollywood these days. If their death would bring a dramatic twist or shock factor that would amp up the views and have people talking for days? You could kiss that role bye-bye. 

"He's too lovable to be killed. I hope" Joey shrugged, reaching for his own mug. It was rather tepid by now, but he sipped it anyway, desperate for a distraction from how sleepy and soft Henry looked. "I can't wait to see how they film the orgy. And what a wonderful way to rule a town, isn't it? Drug fuelled orgies in your magical basement" he grinned, matched by Henry, who shook his head in bemusement. 

"It'll be something" he agreed, sipping his tea again. 

They talked probably for longer than they should have, the conversation drifting idly from topic to topic, until Henry looked fit to fall asleep right there on the couch. "Not that I don't adore your company, my dear, but you're five minutes away from passing out" Joey noted gently, nudging Henry's knee with his own. In a movement that looked almost automatic, Henry's own leg moved in response, following his retreat to keep their calves and knees pressed together gently. His head was braced on his palm, elbow braced on the arm of the couch, and he blinked across at Joey demurely. 

"I quite think you're right" Henry murmured, his expression unbearably gentle, and five minutes later they were both walking towards the door of his trailer, which Henry paused at just before stepping out. "You know, I'm rather glad they chose you" he noted softly, reaching out to draw Joey into a tight embrace, arms locked around the nip of his waist, nose buried into into the groove of Joey's shoulder. Henry smelt like tea and aftershave and mint and Joey breathed it in shamelessly, squeezing the older man back. 

_I'm rather glad they chose you._

Who even said something like that? It was downright rude, for the sole reason that now Joey was laying in bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling and wondering desperately what he was to do for the remainder of his existence now that those words had been etched into his brain, like carving your initials into a tree. He tossed and turned in his sheets before stiffly vowing to make the most of a night he wasn't required to film through, clamping his eyes shut and thinking of a soft, floaty sensation. It must have worked, because he jolted awake some passing of time later to his alarm, slapping at it with a grumble. Cursed fucking thing. He was a creature of laziness and comfort, damnit. He was no Henry, awke before the sun and pumping weights before the birds had began to tweet. 

He showered, only bothering to half-dry his hair as he shrugged into a loose shirt and some jeans. It was an initial run-through, so there would undoubtedly be food, and he ignored his own supply in favour of pocketing his phone, picking up his script and staggering out into the brightness of day with a squint and a scoff. To utterly _nobody's_ surprise, Henry looked like a true movie star in the early sunshine, relaxed and sleepy-soft, lounging in his chair with a copy of the script and a plate of scrambled eggs, kale, turkey bacon and a smoothie. It was just one meal of about four that Henry would eat today, in order to pack on enough calories and protein to sustain his figure. 

"Morning, Sunshine" Henry greeted with vague amusement when Joey flopped into his own seat, and Joey rolled his neck to give him the stink-eye, immediately distracted by the plate a friendly looking catering girl set down on the fold-up table between them. Scrambled eggs, actual bacon and toast. Joey resisted the urge to appear smug, and set down his own copy of the day's scene. Today wouldn't be much more than a simple run through, markers and instructions and the costume designers flapping about them like chickens. They ate in a silence that was familial, content, Joey gorging on his juicy, salty bacon and Henry chewing thoughtfully on his sad, dry turkey. They were barely setting their cutlery down when Mike came striding over. 

"Alright, guys. You ready? Jason and Sean are here, too. There's a lot of special effects going into this episode with the whole Djinn thing". 

Joey quirked a brow. As opposed to every other episode? He opened his mouth to speak, but something knocked against his ankle. A glance down revealed it was another ankle, one connected to a ridiculously long leg, connected to a ridiculously handsome Henry Cavill. Who was giving him one of those patient parent looks, like a Dad who'd caught his kid about to draw on the walls or something. Joey sighed, but knocked his ankle back and stood up, nodding enthusiastically. The sooner they got this episode done with, the sooner Jaskier went back to prancing along at Geralt's side, or far, far away from him. Right? 

Right. 

Hopefully right. 

Mike and Sean took Henry off to one side and Jason moved over with Joey, immediately launching into the types of research they were going to toss at him for this scene. They practised a few panicked looks, some wheezing, discussed the types of reactions that Jaskier would have to it all, as someone who had been relatively removed from magic and injury, even at Geralt's side. They discussed the impact and nature of the injury, and Joey gave an easy shrug. 

"Wheezing and being on the brink of death? Nothing that a trip to the gym hasn't done to me before" he quipped, and watched as Henry's gaze slid across to him from over the set, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk even as he spoke. It flooded Joey with warmth from the inside out, and he returned the brief smile before focusing his attention back onto Jason. It was almost two hours later that Mike motioned them over, and Joey strolled across the space. 

"I was just speaking to Henry about the scenes where Geralt carries Jaskier. Its likely that we'll be shooting for most of the day, with multiple takes. We were just talking about the logistics of Henry lifting you and carrying you around". Joey raised a brow and dropped a pointed glance to the sculpted bulge of Henry's arm muscles where he stood with his arms casually folded. When he looked up again Henry was casting him another sidelong, amused glance, and Joey gave a low hum to the unspoken words. 

"Henry said he can lift you fairly easily?" And the lilt at the end was nothing if not the subtle hint of a demonstration, to which Henry unfolded his arms, stepping aside a little to give himself more room. Joey obligingly stepped closer, relaxing himself and raising his arms. He presumed, foolishly, it would be the same as before. A simple heft upwards, and done with it. But Henry came closer and stooped, down until his cheek grazed Joey's flank as he wrapped his arms around Joey's thighs, muscles flexing against him as he adjusted his stance and then began to lift. Joey barely had time to make a noise of protest, hands moving towards Henry's shoulders before he was being lifted upwards. 

There was enough momentum and grip from Henry that Joey went up and _forwards_ , breath rushing from his lungs as Henry tossed him lightly over his shoulder like he was nought but a sack of flour. His hands slid from Henry's shoulders down his spine, settling with his palms in the steep slope of the small of his back, blood rushing to his head as he dangled, secured only by Henry's arm tight around his thighs and a hand that drifted upwards, settling at his hip to hold him steady. It occurred to him in that moment that his ass was right besides Henry's face, and his face burst into flames as he lay there, indignant and embarrassed. 

"Impressive" Sean noted, tone approving as Henry twisted slightly to the side so that Joey could see them and give a meek wave from where he dangled. After several more seconds, Henry shifted, hands gentle and sure as he stooped and set Joey back on his feet again. They were tauntingly close when they were both upright once again, and Joey breathed in the rich scent of his cologne before Henry stepped aside a little, and the day of planning resumed. Foolishly, Joey presumed that it would be smooth sailing from there. Now he knew what to expect, he could prepare himself, get a rein on his reactions. It was just another scene. If he got through Henry Cavill in speedos in a tub, he could get through this. 

Inevitably, he was wrong, and it began when Sean called for a lunch break some four hours later. It landed him sat at a pop-up table with Henry lounging at his side, looking at him with soft teasing. "You're incredibly easy to pick up" Henry noted, something gentle and almost purred in his voice, and Joey glanced down at the heap of veggies and chicken on his plate. He supposed a monitored diet had something to do with that fact. If he was left to his own devices, he'd snack his way into being bedridden and round. 

"I imagine a good majority of people would be, with arms like those" he responded evenly, before chewing down on a piece of spinach. The chicken had been seasoned rather curiously, and he couldn't decide if he liked it or not. Henry glanced down at his arms, fingers twitching so a muscle in his forearm jumped as though he needed to clarify what Joey meant, and then he simply shrugged. 

"You're the right size for it" he concluded, and that was apparently the end of it, because he pulled a small book from his pocket and set to reading as he ate his own high-protein meal. Joey puzzled over the conversation as he ate, picking half-heartedly at the chicken before resigning himself to ramen later on in the night. He could afford the work-out it would cost him. He was scraping his plate and setting it into the 'dirty' bucket when he saw Henry stroll up to a member of catering staff, and it was sheer luck that Joey was within hearing distance of the near whispered words that followed. 

"I just thought it might be helpful if you knew Joey doesn't like cilantro". 

After a brief conversation, Henry was off again and Joey was left stood there, holding onto his plate and blinking off into space. 

Cilantro. That had been it. The seasoning he couldn't quite get behind. But how did Henry _know_? 

And it only got worse from there. Every time Henry picked him up was a time that Joey was left flushed and shuffling on the spot, doing his best to look innocent of any effect, trying to control the way his cock would stiffen at his hip with an iron will. Each time consisted of being hauled around like he weighed nothing, of large palms splayed in places typically reserved for a lover, or Henry casting him these surreptitious glances, like he knew exactly how this was getting to him. But he never uttered a direct word, no. Remarks here and there that were infuriatingly on the brink of flirting, but nothing so direct as 'Hey, I noticed you get hard each time I pick you up. What's up with that?' 

Chilling together on set or in their trailers, all Joey could think to focus on was the feel of Henry's arms flexing around him, the richness of his scent and the slide of his hands down his muscular back. It was maddening, and more than once he had to sit himself down and remind himself of the boundaries associated with their interactions. Henry was a colleague and a friend, and that was rather where it ended. For Henry, at the least. Joey was almost certain that bar appreciating the fact that he wasn't _hideous_ , Henry didn't have anything past platonic appreciation of him. 

Running through the scenes and practising was, arguably, the worst. 

Joey was, of course, wheezing like an idiot and flopping about uselessly, and Henry was projecting the strong, handsome protector that gentled him with hidden touches and looked at him with such genuine concern and heartbreak that sometimes, Joey really _was_ short of breath. Each time the acting left him raspy-voiced and aching, Henry was there with honey and water and lemon sweets, talking for him and content to sit in companionable silence so Joey could rest his throat. And each time Henry hauled him up it was with infuriating strength and care, always setting him down like he was made of glass, standing close with a lingering hand on his hip, steadying him before making any move away. 

It was during one such run-through that Joey supposed he _really_ landed himself in it. They'd been practising for hours, running their scenes together start through to finish, complete in costume to really get a feel for it. Joey's throat was just beginning to verge on aching, and he felt frayed thin with the proximity to Henry, to his hands sliding everywhere, his breath on Joey's ear each time they adjusted. They were standing close together, Joey's mouth sticky with fake blood as they listened to Sean and Jacob direct the scene a little, before calling for another round. 

"One more go, guys, and we can call it a break for today. I'm really happy with where this is hitting!" 

Joey resisted the urge to lick his teeth and shifted, preparing himself. He and Henry had worked out an easier method of lifting, safer and more comfortable for the both of them. Henry ducked down, arms sliding around his thighs and shoulder settling against his stomach as Joey adjusted his stance, bracing his hands on Henry's shoulders. When he was settled in position, he tapped Henry's shoulders, and the man began to lift him, steady and at a set pace so that Joey could more or less slide in a controlled manner over his body, down into the slumped, boneless position the scene called for. 

"Good?" Henry asked softly, thumb stroking along the inside of Joey's thigh, and he gave a weak sound in response. He was both _great_ and _suffering_. It was bittersweet, a blissful torture and he could already compose a thousand songs from this alone. He heard the snap of the clapperboard, the quiet call of ' _action_!' and then Henry was shifting beneath him, adjusting his grip before taking several strides forwards. And perhaps the _worst_ thing about this position was the fact that it meant Joey got to watch Henry's sculpted ass move with each step. 

They'd gotten no further than ten steps when a phone rang, shrill and loud, and someone spat a curse before calling for a cut. Henry fell to a halt, hands still gripping Joey to keep him secure, and then Jacob was talking. 

"Okay, guys. We can actually call it a cut for today, I've gotta take this". 

Joey huffed, but supposed it was a blessing in disguise. His spine was beginning to ache from keeping his cock away from the snug groove it was laying within at Henry's shoulder, where the shifting of muscle and the friction of the movement had began to coax him into hardness. He began to push himself up, using his palms against Henry's back for purchase when the other man shifted, hands settled on his thighs, pulling his legs apart as he tipped Joey backwards (forwards?) and in all the time it took him to suck in a surprised breath, he found himself more or less sat astride the man, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips for security. 

"Uh" was all that he managed, suddenly face with Henry's wide, gorgeous eyes and full mouth more or less just a hand from his own. Broad palms supported his upper thighs and held his weight with ease, smiling all soft and easy at him. He had the wig on, but the yellow contacts had been left behind, and his eyes were warm and shining. 

"How's the throat?" Henry asked, hitching him higher up his hips with an upwards push, one that had Joey grinding his teeth and thinking mercilessly of dead puppies. How many people had Henry fucked this way? Lifting them up and down upon himself, staring into their eyes? It was only the way that Henry was holding him that stopped Joey from sitting as a weight over his cock, and Joey was perhaps the only person alive who'd be _thankful_ of the fact. 

"I'm gonna need a boiled sweet after this, but its not awful" he admitted, deciding that 'rolling with it' was the best course of action. No, his _voice_ was not the issue here. Not at all, by a six-something inch long mile. And, Joey had never really thought to measure his asshole, but he'd wager the thing was winking like a corner-street whore at a trucker at this point. He wanted desperately to question the current scenario, but Henry was still smiling at him and to ruin this would be...Blasphemy, frankly. Utter shit, honestly. Getting held up by Henry Cavill, dressed like a Calvin Klein version of Geralt of Rivia? 

A once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Or...However many times Henry had thrown him around, at this point. It was anyone's guess. 

"Good to hear, I bet we'll be doing this all over again tomorrow" Henry noted, as if Joey wasn't having a sexually originated crisis in his very hands, and then those aforementioned hands were sliding along his thighs, carefully unwrapping Joey's hold and setting him down, grip sliding from upper thigh to his hips, then up to his waist, where he semi-cradled the shorter man, head tilting. "There's going to be detailed re-imaginings of your displayed ass by the end of the year". And it was said somewhere between teasing a lover and reading from a shopping list. Joey blinked, four solid, startled movements, and then Henry was letting him go with a gentle pat to the shoulder, striding across the set. 

"Cock" Joey muttered to himself, spitfire and woodsmoke as he stomped after the brute. Henry was normally so...Gentlemanly. Not a prude or an old man by any means, but that was the boldest things Joey had heard him say in almost a month of filming. Discounting, of course, the colourful outburst when Roach of The Day had stepped on his foot and resolutely stayed there. Henry had already disappeared into the makeup trailer when Joey rounded the corner, and he narrowed his eyes but resigned himself to striding off in the direction of the costume trailer, where pants with a crotch actually placed at his cock awaited him. 

He was slurping ramen in his trailer when the message came, phone vibrating against his thigh where he'd abandoned it in favour of false chicken powder and questionable veggies. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: For a scene with such little dignity, you do it well. [18:53]**

Joey snorted at the words, knowing that Henry meant them in an entirely complimentary way, and likely not even considered the insult that belayed it. He considered pointing it out, or making an equally backhanded remark, but he settled instead on being genuine. He returned to his sad bowl of ramen for a few mouthfuls, determined not to fall asleep hungry again, before he picked up his phone. 

**Me: Thank you, Wolf. [19:03]**

He'd only started it after the bathtub scene, the true transformation in friendship both between them and Jaskier and Geralt. He'd tossed out the odd Superman or Mr. Kent before that, but _Wolf_ had stuck. He couldn't shake it, like his own skin clinging to his bones. Henry had bared his teeth and jokingly snapped them at him the first time, and had settled into acceptance of it to any that followed. In turn, Joey was _Songbird_ or _Lark_ , precious on his tongue. It shouldn't mean anything, but _Wolf_ finds its way between his teeth as often as the urge to kiss Henry. Its a complex connection, one that keeps him on his toes. Sometimes, it comes out softer than intended, too tender to be anything but a proclamation of affection that he can only hope Henry doesn't look at too carefully. 

**The Big Bad Wolf: Always, Lark. [19:08]**

Joey stared, blinked, then declined to respond, not sure he wouldn't say anything that couldn't be brushed off as platonic or humour. He'd already put his foot in it a few times; meeting Henry for the first time, almost every time he'd been in the presence of the man, actually. And, several times that he hadn't, but Anya or Madeleine with a camera absolutely had. 

The next day was no better. Joey awoke, showered, and practically crawled his way towards the catering cart. He'd come to the sudden realisation that straight after the initial hauling around scenes, came the orgy. 

The orgy Geralt would abandon him at. 

He was bee-lining for the oatmeal when a hand closed around his arm, steering him off course, and he looked up in bewilderment to see Henry at his side, coaxing him towards a table where a hot bowl of oatmeal and several fruit pieces already awaited him, alongside a hearty glass of cranberry juice. "Oh, you sweet gift" Joey moaned, staggering towards the table and sinking into a seat. That was one of the worst things about acting - The ungodly hours, the long hours, the...Well. The hours. Henry chuckled at his side, resuming his own vegetable and meat selection. He was already dressed for Geralt, sans wig and contacts and the contouring makeup that gave his already steep cheeks more structure. 

"When we're on a break from filming, I'm going to invite you over for dinner" Henry announced around a mouthful of his food, and Joey nearly swallowed the spoon down with his oatmeal, sucking in a wheezing breath as he pulled it from his mouth. "If you light up at craft food, you'll lose your mind for one of my Dad's recipes" Henry continued, oblivious to Joey's mild choking issue. When he finally felt able to speak words that wouldn't sound like his last, Joey gave a nod. Dinner. At Henry's house. Being cooked for. By Henry. 

"Sounds good" he forced out, gripping his spoon tightly. Henry's laced chemise was open at the chest, and it was terribly distracting. Collarbones were not inherently sexual, in Joey's mind, but he wanted to sink his teeth into Henry's like a feral animal. Like the kind of beast he sang about, or the kind that Geralt was supposed to represent. Henry had gone back to eating, intent on adhering to the schedule of the day, and Joey forced the rest of his oatmeal down in lieu of letting any other incriminating words fall free. He didn't have to suffer for long, called to wardrobe and make-up almost as soon as he'd shovelled the last mouthful of oats onto his tongue. He retreated with a whine, yearning for the days of old when a man could sleep in until ten and eat cereal dry from the box in his sweatpants. 

Adorned as the bard so beloved, he staggered out onto the set, tugging at the material that hung around his thighs. It had been a task, learning to walk in such garments, but a large part of Joey enjoyed the blatant bravado and peacock-ism of them. Fake blood had been carefully and artfully applied across his mouth, jaw, sleeves and the front of his doublet, and a small bottle of capsules along with a larger tub and a straw awaited him for the remaining scenes. Someone had quite considerately added a few drops of vanilla essence to the product going into his mouth. Henry was already waiting for him near the marker, chatting animatedly to a set boy, who looked fit to burst with admiration. 

"I hope your throat is well rested, Jaskier" Henry greeted him, voice low and in Geralt's signature rumble when the set boy had scurried off and Joey had reached his side. It threw Joey for a solid second, but it was all too easily to bat his lashes and slip into the skin of the bard, hands on his hips and eyes bright. They traded lines for several moments, warming up and slipping into their respective characters like stepping into rainfall. By the time Joey felt less like Joey and more like Jaskier, the others began to take their places, and the process of filming the scene began in earnest. Joey suddenly felt hyper aware of the oncoming scene as Henry advanced towards him, preparing to pick him up again. He sucked in a sharp breath even as he raised his arms, and when Henry glanced at him, his eyes were bright and rich with life. 

Henry was warm and had the scent of aftershave and leather when he stepped in close, fingertips skimming Joey's hips as he ducked down. It took all of his will power to breathe normally as he settled his hands on Henry's shoulders, bracing himself for the flex of bare arms around his thighs, the gentle dig of Henry's fingers. 

"Up" Henry alerted him softly, and then the world was rolling and rising. Henry's shoulders were solid under his fingers as he folded himself over and then shuffled his grip so he was dangling over Henry's right shoulder, hands sliding down his spine for stability as Henry pushed him forwards a little more. After a little shuffling to get properly situated, Henry's hand fell to his thigh, squeezing gently. "Good?" He asked, and Joey pet at the small of his back in affirmation. Henry voiced the same louder, to the directors and the set assistants, who came bustling over to poke and prod before settling back, content. Henry moved steadily to the taped marker, and the set fell silent as they waited for the cameras and sound booms to position. 

"Next time, I'm valuing a potential character on their dignity" Joey muttered teasingly, just loud enough that Henry would hear. He could feel the faint vibrations of a stifled chuckle, the slight shake of Henry's shoulders, and moments after the other man quieted, the clapperboard came down and Joey let himself fall truly limp, sucking in a rattled breath. He didn't have the prosthetic bulge on right now, but it would be applied for the later scenes. Henry's muscles shifted beneath his weight, and then they were walking. Henry walked as smoothly as he could with his weight off-set by such a dramatic amount, and Joey let himself flop a little in his grasp, head lolling against the upper curve of his spine as Henry moved. 

They reached the end marker, and the scene called a cut. Joey breathed a steady sigh, relaxing his throat from where he'd been quietly wheezing in the background as Henry walked. Once they'd filmed this sequence of shots, Mike was being kind enough to give Joey three days' break to rest his voice. It also meant they had enough time to travel to the next set, so Joey supposed it wasn't all _that_ nice, seeing as it was mostly erring on convenience. He shuffled slightly on Henry's shoulder, going his best to remain sedate. It wouldn't do either of them any good to go toppling over in this state. 

"Henry, I want a little more feeling on your face. A little more... _Vulnerability_. I'm thinking-" 

Conversation not directed at him, Joey let himself tune out, briefly noting that Henry wasn't making any attempt to set him down, even though it must be uncomfortable by now. When they called for action again, Joey let himself repeat the performance from before, seeing as he hadn't received any pointers. Not, he supposed, that there were many that could be given. The only thing on camera in this scene was his ass and shapely thighs. They reached the marker again, the black tape only barely visible under Henry's heels, and then he was turning again, the world spinning on its axis. Cut was called, and Henry shifted beneath him. 

Stooping, Henry let him slide back down towards solid ground, hands roaming between his thighs and hips as he helped make sure that Joey landed on his feet. Briefly, fleetingly, his hands skimmed the curve of his thighs, almost like a caress, and Joey wobbled a little as he stood upright, bracing a hand on Henry's forearm. The other actor cast him a soft, questioning glance, but Joey shook his head. "Fine" he croaked. "I'm fine". Henry's brow lifted, but he seemed to buy it, smiling in amusement as he looked up to the others for their next guidance. They repeated the walk four more times, like some sort of sullen catwalk, and finally, they called for a final cut, satisfied with what they'd got. 

Henry shifted to set him down again, shoulder shaking slightly with the effort of carrying him for so long, and Joey squirmed as much as he was able to help the other actor along, breath leaving him in a rush when he shunted downwards in Henry's loosening grasp. Even as he grabbed fistfuls of Henry's shirt in a useless bid for purchase, Henry's right arm slipped between his thighs, hand splaying and gripping the inside of his leg, his left hand flying up to cup the space that just began to crest into the roundness of his ass. Joey made a pitiful noise low in his throat as Henry caught him, belatedly noting that this instance was going to replay in his mind until the day that he died. 

Henry bounced him in his hold a little to re-centre his grip, and carefully bent, placing Joey as upright to the ground as he could manage, with Joey's legs practically splayed at his hips. He felt warm all over when Henry's hands fell to his hips, gaze apologetic. Joey offered him a bright, slightly shake smile, petting gently at his right pectoral to let the other actor know there were no hard feelings. He brushed it off with soft words, igniting conversation about what they all hoped to do when filming took a full break for the season before he was being ushered back into the makeup trailer. And so it went, on and off throughout the day, until he shuffled back towards his trailer, fully intent on pigging out on his coach and making the most of a relatively early finish. 

At least, until Henry text him. It was simple, a request for company back on the set, and whilst it perplexed him, Joey wasn't going to deny the man. He supposed Henry was hoping to run through the upcoming script, to get some stability before they found themselves surrounded by figures only skimpy nude spandex away from being naked. He tugged a soft sweater over his head against the coolness of the night air and stepped out from his trailer, picking his way through the darkness with his phone torch towards the set they'd made use of earlier that day. Henry was leaning against the wall, not far from the table someone had left out. A small night lamp lay at his feet, casting a soft glow around him like he was some sort of Angelic presence. The smile he cast Joey on his approach was Angelic enough for the analogy to be true. 

"You came" Henry beamed at him, sounding vaguely surprised, and Joey gave a sleepy scoff, returning the smile with one of his own. 

"Henry Cavill asks for your company, you'd be a fool to decline" he shrugged easily, and Henry's head tilted a little, like it was a joke he wasn't quite sure of. Joey strode to lean again the wall before Henry, adopting the same relaxed stance. He wondered what it would be like, with Henry, soft conversations and peaceful company in the likes of a campfire or the trunk of a car filled with fairy lights. He made a vow to adopt the idea once they'd taken a break from filming. 

"Do you think," Henry began slowly, confidently. "That if was Geralt and Jaskier, not Geralt and Yennefer...That this series of events would be the turning point for their relationship?" And were Joey not leaning against something he'd have surely keeled over in shock, eyes widening a little and lips parting on a vaguely strangled sound. Henry's brows lifted a little and Joey forced a thoughtful look on his face, reminding himself that this wasn't the first time that they'd briefly touched on Geralt and Jaskier developing as more than friends. Joey was firmly of the opinion that the bard was in love with the Witcher, platonically or otherwise, and Henry was also relatively solid on his notion that Geralt was somewhat reluctantly in love in return. As much as he was capable, anyway. 

"I...Think this would either be the turning point, or the opened gates for a slow turn" he managed after a pause. And he did - Truly. This was the first time, on-screen at least, that Jaskier had ever come to considerable harm at Geralt's side. It had never quite been this bold, though, and certainly not the purpose of a secretive meeting in the cover of night. Henry made a soft sound of thought opposite him, and Joey was rather too tentative to question this. After a moment of what seemed like quiet contemplation, Henry spoke again, soft and easy-drawled in the faint golden light around them. 

"I'd want it to be. If it was...Canon. Under his rough exterior, Geralt is scared for him. Scared of losing him". Henry looked thoughtful as he said it, open. Joey made a soft sound of agreement, gaze averting to the floor lest he do something stupid like kiss it off him. Henry had voiced the notion before, that this affected Geralt as much as it did Jaskier; the various emotions that the Witcher was coursing through as it all went down - Because the whole notion that Witchers were void of feelings or emotions was bollocks. Even the directions agreed upon it - Geralt had as many feelings as anyone else, he just trampled them like a violent bull. 

"Nothing like nearly losing someone to bring you closer to them" Joey offered, corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. Henry cast him another strangely gentle look, taking a step closer. It made something thrilling shoot up Joey's spine, and he found himself staring at the fleck of brown in Henry's bright eyes. There was something shining within them, something bold that Joey couldn't quite place his finger on. 

"I'm bias, but I prefer Jaskier and Geralt to Yennefer and Geralt" Henry's voice had lowered, secretive and conspiratorial, like divulging a secret that no man had ever had the privilege of knowing. Henry was still advancing, prowling a half-circle around Joey with easy, confident steps, and the other man was helpless but to watch it, breath hiccuping in his throat. "I want it to be Geralt and Jaskier, if only for the fact that it would in turn, in some part, mean you and I". 

Joey almost felt like he'd been punched, whatever breath was in his lungs freezing out as Henry's words sank into his skull, into his chest and his heart. 

_You and I._

"You can tell me to stop talking, and I'll respect it" Henry offered him, no more than a hand or so away from him now and Joey breathed in slowly, the mixture of cold night air and the Henry, so close he felt if he were to stick out his tongue he'd taste it. "Tell me to stop" Henry whispered again, and Joey found it within himself to shake his head, just a fraction. Part of him considered if this was a joke, some prank, but he knew Henry's soft heart wouldn't do such a thing. Henry's pranks were things like salt in his tea instead of sugar, not the cruelty of false affections and adoration. 

"And your bias is that Geralt kissing Jaskier, by default, means that you kiss me?" He asked after a moment, voice fragile with hope. The smile Henry gave him was all the answer needed, soft and adoring, like a revelation. 

"Its passed my mind, once or twice. And these past few days, more than once" Henry noted delicately. "Picking you up, carrying you, having you in my arms. Its made it harder to not imagine doing anything. Harder not to do anything" Henry confessed. Joey made a soft sound, suddenly aware of the fact that they were still so close, still so intimately secluded here. Their own private bubble, where Joey was still vaguely not certain this wasn't a dream. That he wasn't fast asleep and snoring on his couch, living in some magical world that his subconscious and his heart had hopefully pushed upon him. 

"What is it that you wanted to do?" Joey asked after a pause of counting the flecks of brown in his eyes. 

"Can I touch you?" 

He sucked in a sharp breath, then nodded. The notion of being touched by Henry made him feel like he was on fire, but without the pain, heat flaring across his cheeks, down his spine. Henry's gaze almost seemed to darken at the permission, the muscles in his shoulders shifting as he moved his arms up, hands settling over Joey's hips gently, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles over the rise of the bone. Even such a relatively platonic touch made Joey shiver slightly, hyperaware of every inch of skin that Henry touched. That was all Henry did, for what seemed like an eternity; held onto him with delicate care and gazed down at him like it might be the last time he ever saw Joey. 

"Can I kiss you?" Henry asked after a moment, voice so gentle it was almost unbearable, and Joey was not ashamed to say that the sound he made was not entirely put-together, his own hands raising as Henry ducked down towards him to grip at the man's impressive biceps, fingers curling gently around the thick muscle. There was a moment when he closed his eyes and time almost seemed to suspend, the anticipation of what was about to happen swelling between them, and then there was the most careful, light brush of lips against his own, the slight rasp of carefully maintained stubble on the corner of his mouth, and Joey breathed out a sigh against Henry's lips, pressed closer, pulling Henry forwards until their mouths met properly, a warm and sweet press. 

And maybe that was all Henry had intended it to be - The sweetness of a tentative first kiss, a trial, but Joey kissed him again, and again, a languid, slow kiss that Henry returned with equal enthusiasm, grip tightening on Joey's hips slightly as if he was restraining himself from taking it any further. And certainly, it was just a kiss. Kisses were inherently not over-sexual or pleasurable in their own right, but something about kissing Henry made it sweet as any cake, needy as any drug, and Joey tipped his head, sucking Henry's lower lip between his teeth to nip it gently, soothing the sting with a suckle before he moved one hand from Henry's arm to his jaw. 

He let his thumb brush the man's rough cheek as he licked along where he'd bitten, making a sound not unlike a whimper when Henry obligingly parted his lips enough that Joey could lick into his mouth, savouring the taste of mint and something undeniably human and _Henry_. Henry's grip tightened again, thumbs digging into Joey's hip bone and he thoughtlessly pressed forwards into it, easing against Henry's thigh as the other actor returned the gentle, deep nature of the kiss. It was wet and slow, each man learning the space of the other, and it wasn't long before they were both breathless, one of Henry's hands sliding up into Joey's hair to tip his head gently back and to the side, teeth catching his tongue briefly, tauntingly, before he pulled back, lips dark and shiny. 

Anything Joey could think to say was severely sidelined when Henry shifted, ducked, hands sliding down Joey's body to his thighs, the faintest murmur of _up_ leaving his mouth before it was nothing but Henry's sheer strength and his grip on Joey's thighs lifting him, back against the wall and legs pulled around his hips, thighs spread. Joey let out a harsh breath, arms locking around Henry's neck as he took stock of the new position, the situation in its entirety. He could still taste Henry on his tongue, could feel the taut muscle between his legs, Henry's body pressing him back, holding him up, and he let out a quiet, soft moan, tightening his arms to drag Henry back in. 

He lost time as they kissed, focusing on nothing but the way Henry's body felt pressed against his, the strength that coiled underneath those muscles and the ease with which Henry held him up, palms under the backs of his thighs, one leg slightly shifted to keep him balanced as the kiss deepened; increased in urgency. The tentative exploration became hungered, darker, light nips became bites, soothed with wet licks and inflamed again with the scrape of teeth over raw skin. He wasn't even aware that he was moaning until Henry grinned against his mouth, pulling back until they were panting into each other's space. 

"You're hard" Henry noted, voice still frustratingly light, a smirk quirking the corners of his mouth. Joey gave a groan that tapered into a quiet chuckle, head falling back against the wall as he let go of Henry's shoulder to gesture at him. 

"Of course I am" he breathed back, tender and amused. Who wouldn't be? Held against a wall, kissed senseless? By Henry, no less. Joey wagered if he was ever in this scenario and he didn't get hard, his dick was broken. 

Slowly, carefully, and holding his gaze, Henry adjust his grip on Joey, one arm moving to the small of his back and angling his hips, shifting until...

"Oh, _fuck_ " Joey cursed softly, because snug against his ass was the _very_ prominent bulge of Henry's cock, as hard as his own, lined against his asscheeks like it belonged there. Fuck, but it felt like it would reach the small of his back if it wasn't wrapped within its confines and Joey whined at the thought, unashamed of how pathetic it must've sounded. Evidently, Henry felt on the contrary, stifling a groan as he leaned forwards and nosed into the space where Joey's neck sloped into his shoulder. He did nothing but breathe there, lips parted against his skin like it was cumbersome not to bite down. 

"No wonder you have to work out, if you're constantly lugging that thing around" Joey noted after a moment. Because, sure. He'd _seen_ it before, more or less. The swimming briefs they'd given Henry for the bathtub scene hadn't exactly hidden anything, but it was another reality altogether to actually _feel_ it. Henry began to chuckle against him, shoulders shaking and breath hot on his skin as he shook his head slightly, pulling back to look up at Joey. Amazingly; he still wasn't struggling with holding him up. Perhaps the wall was lending him some reprieve. 

"I could think of somewhere to rest it" Henry replied, slow but dripping with teasing, eyes sparkling in the dim light below them. Joey almost forgot the secretive nature of the meeting, barking a laugh before he buried his fingers in the soft jet of Henry's hair and pulled him down, quieting himself by licking into Henry's mouth like he was water in the middle of a desert. And, screw what he'd said earlier. Kissing Henry could quite easily get him off on any given day. 

On a particularly dirty fraction of the kiss, Joey rocked his hips forwards, grinding the length of Henry's cock and shamelessly rubbing his own hardness against the toned plane of his stomach, where taut muscle formed a delicious friction to roll against, drawing a sharp intake of breath from both of them. Henry's own inhale tapered off into the softest of growls, a jagged sound from low in his throat that had him gripping at Joey tighter, adjusting him against before pulling away from the wall and spinning. The other actor broke the kiss only enough to look past Joey, taking four quick, large strides, and then Joey's ass settled atop the table across the set, legs still tight as Henry stooped over him, crowding closer. 

"Fuck, you probably get this a lot, but I _love_ that you're a brute of a man" Joey admitted, fingertips trailing where Henry's sleeves had rucked up to bare his biceps, sloping muscle so inviting for Joey's teeth. He imagined leaving imprints there, imagined dark bruises blooming along the thickness of Henry's neck and his teeth _ached_ with it like he was some sort of beast. Henry said nothing, but smiled at him, amused and doting, like Joey could say anything in that moment and it wouldn't matter before a hand fell to his spine, sliding down steadily and surely. It occurred to Joey that he was being given enough time to decline, to say no, but he didn't, staring back at the other actor as the hand cupped his ass from behind and pushed, bringing their hips together and squeezing their cocks in a deliciously taunting manner. 

"I might be lending some theatrics from Jaskier here, but if you don't let me cum within the next ten minutes, I might actually combust" Joey announced, eyes rolling slightly as Henry shifted against him, hips nudging forwards, a slow and sure grind. Henry chuckled again but obliged, head ducking to catch Joey's lower lip between his teeth as he ground them together, hand sliding to the side slightly to cup a handful of Joey's asscheek and _squeeze_. Joey's mouth fell open, nothing but a harsh gasp as Henry ground against him again, forceful and selfish, his other hand sneaking to squeeze Joey's thigh and rake his nails down the length of the muscle. Whoever had taught Henry such things deserved nothing short of a medal. 

The grinding increased in desperation with their kissing, until both were wet and sloppy and hungry, rocking together while Joey paws uselessly at Henry, attempting to beg for more without having to use his mouth for anything except surrendering to the way that Henry kissed him, deep and dirty, like he could bring Joey to orgasm with that alone. 

And fuck, but he _might_. 

And like he'd read Joey's mind, Henry shifted as he kissed him, hands leaving his legs and ass to dip between them, where he didn't even bother with any palming, just closed deft fingers around his button and popped it free, immediately getting to work on the zipper. Instinct had Joey sliding his hands from Henry's shoulder and cheek down his stomach, but he was far less adept, and found himself breaking the kiss to moan as his hands closed around the obscene heft of Henry's cock, tucked up against his thigh and straining like it could physically rip free of the two layers that confined it. "Was your father a horse?!" He croaked after a moment, staring down between them at where two hands scarcely succeeding in covering it. Henry laughed, muffling the sound in his shoulder. 

"I've heard something to that effect before" Henry murmured, and then Joey's zipper was down and Henry was diving between the folds of fabric to grasp Joey's cock, and any further taunting or questioning was promptly banished from his mind. Long fingers wrapped around his cock in a firm grip, thumb pressing gently into the underside, and Joey didn't even bother to stifle the desperate sound he made as he tore at Henry's own waistband, tugging the zipper down like his life depended on it. It took a considerable pull to free Henry's cock from the slit in his boxers, and when he did, any note of teasing fell dead on his tongue. 

Henry's cock was, for want of a better word, a beast in its own right. Joey had only ever seen the likes of it in porn, long and thick with a curved, broad tip, wet and slick with pre-cum, flushed a darker pink in contrast to the rest of it. He was cut, like Joey, and it only added to the strange essence of _pretty_ in contrast to the sheer bulk. He must've stared for too long, because Henry squeezed his cock and brought him back to the present, letting go of him to reach up and drag him back in for another filthy kiss, a hand falling to Joey's hip to pull him closer, to tilt him until their cocks were more or less rubbing together on each frantic rut, trapped between their hips and stomachs. And fuck, but if it didn't send pleasure up and down Joey's body, whining into Henry's mouth as they ground eagerly. 

"Every time I picked you up, I wanted to carry you off" Henry murmured against his mouth, reaching down to grasp Joey's dripping length and give him three short, firm tugs before his hand fell away again. "Wanted to take you to my bed, throw you down on it. Wanted to pin you up against a wall. Wanted to spread you out on the floor, spread your thighs and lick into you" the other actor admitted, voice dark and rough. Joey could only answer it with a sound pathetically akin to a mewl, rutting forwards as Henry's hand came up and into his hair, twisting through the brown, soft locks just enough to sting a little. The groan it pulled from him made Henry pause, blinking across at him briefly, before he twisted his handful tighter, ducking back down to close his teeth around Joey's lower lip. And, sue him. Perhaps a little pain really did sweeten the pleasure. 

It certainly seemed to spur Henry on, Henry, who growled at his whimpered sound and rut forwards harder, grinding in a manner that squeezed the breath from Joey's lungs and sent his stomach muscles twisting up as the pleasure began to build. He could feel pre-cum dribbling down his own cock, the softness of Henry's shirt against his skin, and he scrabbled at the taller actor, breath hitching as he suddenly realised just how _close_ he was, without having noticed it before, like Henry had simply flipped a switch. "Henry, I'm gonna-" Joey cut off on a gasp as his breath stuttered, a sort of pre-flash of heat and pleasure shocking through him as Henry's grip tightened and pulled his upper body back, pushed his head down until he had to brace himself on one palm, forced to stare down at where they ground together like a pair of crazed teens. 

Henry's other hand moved, steady and sure, rucking up his shirt to reveal that tantalising expanse of muscle, grip forcing Joey to push his hips forwards so his cock rode the smooth, indented strip above his navel. 

"Watch yourself cum for me" Henry whispered, and it was nothing of a demand, soft and coaxed, but the mental image had Joey snapping his hips forwards on a groan, one hand shooting out to grip at Henry's arm as his cock twitched heavily between them and then he was - He watched himself cum, thick streaks of pearly liquid pumping out of his cock and all over Henry's stomach, dripping down the tanned skin slowly as Joey panted to catch his breath, lips parted and muscles quivering. Henry's grip relaxed in his hair, but before he could let go Joey shifted, moving his hand from Henry's arm to wrap around the thick mast of his cock. Above him, Henry sucked in a sharp breath, teeth baring as Joey squeezed gently and began to stroke him in short, tight pumps. 

It took no more than five before a low sound tore from Henry's throat, stomach muscles flexing and rippling impressively as his cock stiffened in Joey's grip and pulsed, the other actor's own cum joining the mess on his stomach with a far more impressive load. It looked obscene, and Joey lamented the fact that it would take him at least fifteen minutes before he could go again. They panted together, Henry not so much holding him now as cradling him, catching their breath together before Joey looked up, meeting those gorgeous, stormy blues. 

"I'm gonna lick that off you, then you're coming back to my trailer" Joey vowed, gaze dropping back to where Henry still kept a hold on his shirt, stopping it from falling into the sticky mess that glistened over his heaving stomach. Henry's fingers flexed in his hair like he was resisting the urge to simply fold Joey in half and shove him down right there, and then he relaxed, making a soft, almost purred sound in response. 

"I'm okay with that". 

**Author's Note:**

> I just checked what day I drafted this and...Whelp. I blame how long this took on the sheer fact that up until this instant, I didn't even know what day it was.


End file.
